


no strings to bind your hands

by dollsome



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-04 22:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: Eve and Villanelle dress up for Halloween.





	no strings to bind your hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the glorious prompt “Eve/Villanelle + couples costume” from skittlestrash over on Tumblr! This is very fluffy, but, like … why not??
> 
> Title is from “Angel of the Morning," aka Villanelle's cryin' song from 2.04!

“Isn’t this a little on the nose?” Eve says. “I mean, totally backwards. But also on the nose.”

“What do you mean?” Villanelle demands.

Eve surveys their reflections in the smudged hotel room mirror. When they’d been hired to take out a mark at Prague’s hottest costume party on Halloween, she hadn’t thought much about the costume part. She was puzzling out a way to kill a shitty rich powerful man and make it look like an accident.

(Un)fortunately, her partner has costumes covered.

Eve has been trying to get Villanelle to understand the beauty of a budget. Now that they’re a freelance assassinating-shitty-powerful-men team of two, they can’t Marie Antoinette their way through Europe anymore. She’d been so busy trying to find a hotel that was cheap while not crossing the line all the way over to _ You might get murdered in your sleep here! _ that she’d forgotten to tell Villanelle not to go fucking nuts on costumes.

To be fair, that’s on Eve. Villanelle has never been able to resist a costume. Eve knows this.

Right now, Villanelle is dressed in endless folds of white tulle with a pair of fluffy wings on her back and a Beyonce-style halo crown headband that makes her face look like the center of the sun. (Looking at her face is kind of like staring into the sun anyway: irresistible, likely to cause irrevocable damage.)

Meanwhile, Eve is wearing a slinky red dress that she never would have glanced at twice on her own. Way too Jessica Rabbit. Her headband has two little red devil horns on top, each horn covered in sparkly red rhinestones. (God, they’d better be rhinestones.) Her hair falls down past her shoulders. Villanelle insisted, of course.

“It’s classic,” Villanelle says, slinging an arm over Eve’s shoulders like they’re posing for a picture together. “Good versus evil.”

Eve snorts. “And you’re good?”

“Obviously,” Villanelle says, and blows a kiss to her own reflection. “Here.”

She hands Eve a tube of lipstick. Eve inspects the name.

“Devil’s kiss?” Eve reads.

Villanelle shrugs modestly.

Eve pulls the top off the lipstick and inspects the deep red underneath.

Villanelle groans. “There’s no razor blades in it. Honestly, Eve, you have gotten so paranoid.”

“Really? We’re not hiding razor blades for this holiday? Shit, don’t eat the candy.”

Villanelle makes a face at her and takes a defiant bite of the fun-sized Snickers bar. Eve made sure to stash her suitcase with candy before they left. When she was a kid, Halloween was her favorite time of year. Lately, she kind of feels like a kid again.

She keeps her eyes trained on her reflection as she puts the lipstick on, enjoying the shiver down her spine that lets her know Villanelle’s eyes are on her.

She finishes and presses her lips together, rubbing the color in. Red, red, red.

“What do you think?” Turning to Villanelle, she strikes a stereotypical vixen pose.

Villanelle lets out a noise of approval, putting a hand to her heart like she’s been shot there and collapsing backwards on the bed.

It’s hard not to like that one.

Eve walks over to the bed. She would climb on top of her, but she’s afraid the tight dress wouldn’t survive it, and they do have a job to do tonight. Instead, she stands over her, hands on hips.

“You done yet?” she asks.

“Nope,” Villanelle says.

“Yeah, you are,” Eve says, “‘cause we’ve gotta go.”

“Fine,” Villanelle pouts. “But you have to help me.”

She holds her hand out and Eve pulls her up. Standing, Villanelle smiles down at her, a glowing vision of white feathers and greedy eyes.

_ Closer_, says that voice inside Eve that she’s decided to stop ignoring, and so Eve kisses Villanelle’s neck, pressing the tip of her tongue just barely to that perfect pulse in that perfect throat. She pulls back a little sloppily, leaving a crimson smear on the neckline of Villanelle’s pristine white dress.

“You bitch,” Villanelle says delightedly, pushing Eve against the wall.

Eve pretends not to be interested. (For the record, it’s a bummer to always be the one with impulse control. Heavy is the head that wears the devil horns.) “Have you got everything you need?”

“Not everything.” A tragic little sigh.

“Let me rephrase that.” Eve tilts her head, knowing Villanelle’s eyes will go to her neck. “Have you got everything you need to kill a man?”

“Of course. That’s the beauty of poofy dresses. Lots of places to hide things.” Villanelle guides Eve’s hand into the folds of her dress.

Eve lets her fingers wander a little. “Why didn’t you give me any places to hide things?”

“Because I like to look at you,” Villanelle replies, coquettish, and then inhales sharply.

Eve smiles at her, taking her hand away. “Sorry, baby.”

“You’re evil.”

“Hey. You’re the one who bought me this outfit.”

Villanelle relents with an eyeroll, walking to the door.

“Besides, there are places to hide things,” she adds, waving a hand at Eve’s dress. “You just need to be a little more creative.”

“Wow,” Eve says in an ingenue voice. “There’s still so much to learn.”

“I’m teaching you. Be patient.”

“Is that a wedding dress?” Eve asks as they leave their room, walking out into the dingy hallway. She gives Villanelle the key card.

Villanelle tucks the card away somewhere in the endless fathoms of white. “It’s old. The bride didn’t need it anymore.”

Eve looks at her.

“Because she realized her husband-to-be was an asshole and she left him the day before the wedding to be with me,” Villanelle goes on, widening her eyes. “We shared an incredible three days together in the honeymoon suite. That’s all. What do you think I am?”

“An angel,” Eve says ironically.

“I did kill the husband,” Villanelle adds. “But he deserved it.”

Eve chooses to believe her. “Well, then. Let’s go get him some company.”

“Drop dead, moron,” Villanelle says with relish.

Eve can tell she’s quoting. That’s her quoting-something voice.

“It’s from Hocus Pocus,” Villanelle explains, unimpressed by Eve’s lack of instant recognition.

“Why the hell have you seen Hocus Pocus?”

“Who hasn’t seen Hocus Pocus?”

“Good point,” Eve admits. Villanelle has a shocking amount of strong feelings about American movies from the 90s. They get into the lift, attracting some stares from the couple who gets out. “God. I feel like I’m going trick-or-treating.”

“You’re so American,” Villanelle says, fully channeling the French sophisticate she pretends to be.

“_Please_, Hocus Pocus Quoter. You would love trick-or-treating.”

Villanelle brightens. “Maybe one day you’ll take me.”

It makes no sense, of course. You can’t exactly parade your homicidal genius girlfriend in an angel costume around the suburbs with a pumpkin-shaped plastic bucket.

But who knows? They might take a child assassin under their wing someday. Anything’s possible.

“Maybe I will,” Eve says, reaching for Villanelle’s hand.

Villanelle slips her fingers into Eve’s gladly. She only touches Eve gladly these days, ever since the first time she saw her alive and held her instead of trying to kill her again, held her with such aching, relieved, terrified love that it hurt more than any rending of flesh could. Eve felt Villanelle shake with sobs in her arms and knew that no matter how ugly this thing between them was, it was real too.

That’s when it changed. Most people would say not to trust that something like this can last, but it’s lasted so far. These days, Eve is a big believer in taking chances. Seeing where the road goes.

“You can’t steal candy from kids, though,” Eve adds as they walk out of the lift hand in hand.

“Even the dumb ones?”

“Especially not the dumb ones. They didn’t ask to be dumb, did they?”

“Ugh, fine. How about the shitty ones?”

“What do you mean, shitty ones?”

“You know, the ones who put the toilet paper on peoples’ houses.”

“Oh, yeah. Them you can fuck with.”

“Good. They won’t know what hit them.” Villanelle casts one of those feline smiles at Eve. “I’m glad you noticed the dress, by the way.”

Eve shrugs. Super cazh. “It’s a very noticeable dress.”

“You think I’m a pretty bride.”

“That’s a big leap.”

“Oh, Eve, of course I’ll marry you,” Villanelle effuses, leaning over to kiss her cheek. Then, drier: “If you play your cards right.”

“Lucky me,” Eve says, trying for sarcasm and laughing instead.

“Yes, lucky you,” Villanelle says, suddenly very serious. She considers it for a minute. The coldness passes from her face. “Lucky me, too.”

Eve looks at her, reaching up to straighten a strand of blonde hair that’s gotten caught in that ridiculous halo crown. Villanelle stares down at her, trusting and glad, loyal in the way that only a dangerous creature can be. You can’t have love without danger, Eve has learned. That’s what love is. Giving someone a weapon and saying, _ I trust you. _

She wonders how she ever saw nothing behind those eyes.

“Good?” Villanelle asks with that sweetness that comes out more and more these days.

“Good,” Eve confirms, pressing a hand briefly to her cheek.

Villanelle smiles at her, then turns and steps out into the cold. The scariest thing in the darkness. Glorious and full of light. Eve follows after.


End file.
